


we could run away

by palbuddypoe



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Character Study, Gender Identity, Mild Dysphoria, Minor Character Death, Nonbinary Character, Other, POV Second Person, achronological, based on info from comics, but it's rly minor, but set before the music videos, cherri is a demiguy, dr d is a trans guy, fun ghoul is nb, i guess??, jet star is a demigirl, kobra is a genderflux trans boy, mom friend dr d, party poison is genderfluid, show pony is agender, the ghoul/poison is rly minor but it's there, the girl is trans, unsafe binding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 21:20:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6025386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palbuddypoe/pseuds/palbuddypoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You tear through the desert, running and running until you can't. You turn around, panting. Battery City is a towering mass behind you now. There could be draculoids following you. You can see the stars now, though. You keep moving.</p><p>essentially an exploration of gender & the killjoys universe told from party poison's experiences</p>
            </blockquote>





	we could run away

**Author's Note:**

> so this has some references to repercussions after killing a draculoid and also some dysphoria and since it's written in the second person it could be upsetting

You wipe the dirt and sweat from your brow, and the tears from your eyes. You’re here. You watch them with wonder - your eyes glazing over and your mouth open. They’re shooting their guns, laughing while fighting for their lives. You’re crying and you don’t care. The draculoids retreat. They gather at their cars. You approach them, nails digging into your palms. You feel their stares.  
“You’re out here. There’s people in the zones. You’re real. I wasn’t sure, but I made it, oh my god, fuck, I made it...”  
“‘Real’s a relative term, kid,” a man rests a strong hand on your shoulder, “You’re tryin to say you escaped Bat City?”  
You nod.  
“And you’re sure you’re not a draculoid?”  
Another nod.  
“Alright, we can take you back to base,” he laughs, “Pronouns?”  
“...Pronouns?”  
“How do you want us to refer to you? Like, I’m a ‘demiguy,’ and I like to be called ‘he/him’ or ‘they/them.’ What should we call you?”  
“I don’t know. I’ve never had to. I think.. ‘they’ sounds nice?? Can I change that later?”  
“Of course! You have a name?”  
“None I like.”  
“I’m just gonna call you ‘kid,’ then. We’ll settle on one eventually, don’t worry. I’m Cherri, by the way.”  
You smile. You don’t remember the last time you had done that.  
***  
You’re home alone. The apartment is dark. You stand in the bathroom and wrap the bandages around your chest. You turn, admiring your near-flat profile in the mirror. Why do you want this so badly? Why do you only want it some days? You love your makeup and doing your hair, yet here you are trying to pretend you don’t have breasts. Your mind wanders to stories of young rebels who leave the City. They risk their lives in the Zones, just for the sake of nonconformity. They don’t fit what the City wants them to be, so they run, and fight, and kill, and die. But god, it sounds so much better than this.  
***  
“Who are you?” Ghoul asks the child in front of you.  
“A girl,” she replies simply, like it’s all that matters, like she’s trying to convince you. She looks about six.  
Jet scoops her into her arms, “Alright then, Girl, let’s go. We’ve got shelter.”  
***  
“There weren’t many of us at first,” Cherri tells you, “and we’ve lost some people. We were just stories, at first, you know. Just rumors, made up by kids like you and me to give us hope. We made ourselves real. Dr. D and I came out here, and there was nothing. Settled in some abandoned buildings. Pony, they told more stories, brought more people and supplies when they came out to meet us. God, that took guts, they didn’t know where we’d be, if we were even alive.Then Ghoul showed up, all on his own. A society’s building up now, a real movement. You’re part of something special, kid.”  
***  
“Fun Ghoul? Seriously?”  
Ghoul shrugged, “Kid, you can name yourself whatever the fuck you want.”  
You make a list. Your favorite things, rhymes, alliterations. It’s like listing band names, but they’re for yourself. Party Poison. You love that. It sounds like who you want to be - vibrant and deadly and free.  
“I never got your pronouns, Ghoul.”  
“He/him. Right now, at least. It changes, I think.”  
Ghoul dyes your hair. “‘Party Poison’ just sounds like firetruck red, kid. You’ll look so cool, I promise.” He takes you driving, brings you to concerts. He kisses you.  
***  
Cherri takes you to the radio station. “This is Dr. Death-Defying - he/him, DJ, voice of the Zones - you talk to him if you need anything.”  
You're drawn to another person, sitting in the corner, their feet up on the table and headphones over their ears.  
“That's Show Pony,” Cherri says, “genderless, rollerblading, tech genius. I don't think we'd be able to do this if not for them.”  
“What are they wearing? Like under their shirt, what's that black thing?”  
Dr. D laughs, “That's a binder, kid. Safely flattens your chest. I've got one, too. You want one?”  
“Yeah! Yeah, I think I’d like that, please…”  
“Well, cmon,” he ruffles your hair and wheels over to the door, “we’ll get you set up.”  
***  
You chop off your hair and leave it all on the bathroom floor where it falls. You stuff everything you need into a backpack. The City is cold at night. The skyscrapers tower above you, unwelcoming glaciers. You do your best to avoid cameras. You dash through alleys, wrap your coat close as you pass through streets lined with sleazy clubs and porno droids, avoiding their hands. And then you've broken the city limits. You’re still running. You tear through the desert, running and running until you can't. You turn around, panting. Battery City is a towering mass behind you now. There could be draculoids following you. You can see the stars now, though. You keep moving.  
***  
He takes you to see The Mad Gear and Missile Kid. The building is falling apart, you stand in a blur of light and sound and color. You feel a sense of kinship here. Other people like you, other kids, who left the city and built a community from scratch because they weren't what they were supposed to be. And you're here with them, screaming and drinking soda and holding up your middle finger to BL/ind. There's other couples is the corner and against the wall. Probably. But who cares? He's pushing you against the wall and kissing you, and you're kissing him back, pulling on his jacket.  
***  
You help the new kid pick a name. Everyone’s just been calling them kid, like they did with you, and they say they really like being called that.  
“Okay,” you say, “then let's pick something sick to go with it.”  
They nod, and you smile at each other.  
Kobra Kid. They say they think sometimes they’re a boy, but sometimes aren’t really anything at all.  
***  
The five of you stand in the desert sun, sand blowing in your faces, looking at the car. Ghoul pats it proudly and faces you, Kobra, Jet, and the Girl.  
“Guys, this is my Trans Am,” Ghoul smiles at the four of you, “I know. Trans. I didn’t even do it on purpose. Anyway, I already painted the spider, I want you to add to it. If you want. What I mean is, it’s all of ours now. So go fuckin’ wild.”  
“Ghoul, c’mon, there’s a kid right here,” Jet covers the Girl’s ears, already too late. It isn’t even that funny, but you all laugh.  
***  
The radio is blasting and the wind is whipping through your hair. You’re running for your fucking life. You’re shooting, and so is the child who just learned how to use a blaster the day before. You’re all laughing and singing, watching the draculoids disappear in the dust behind the car.  
***  
“This is Jet Star,” Pony says, “you guys’ll love her.”  
You, Ghoul, and Kobra are sitting on the floor of the radio station painting your nails when they walk in. You all stand up to greet her and introduce yourselves. You start talking about who you are, why you’re all here, and you learn more about yourselves and each other in those few hours than you have since you first got to the Zones.  
***  
You stand with her as she drops another letter into the mailbox.  
“Are you sure she’ll get it?”  
“Of course, the Phoenix Witch will get it to her safely, don’t worry.” You sometimes worry.  
“I miss her.”  
“I know. I’m sorry.”  
***  
You don’t know when you five became symbols. You’re not sure if you like it. You don’t know if you can handle being a martyr if it comes to that. But Dr. D is always talking about you, because you’re who the other killjoys want to hear about. You just came here so you could freely exist. But maybe freedom takes some responsibility. No burden will ever compare to what it felt like to live in Bat City. If you can help people do what you did, escape oppression and constant insistence that they shouldn’t exist, then fuck it, you’re willing to do it. So you turn up the radio and keep driving.  
***  
The adrenaline courses through your system. Your feet just slam against the ground and you aren’t sure how much control you have anymore. It’s hot. The sand stings your skin. Kobra runs beside you. You’re pretty sure you just killed a drac, but who can say? You just fire your blaster again, kicking up sand and trying to make it out of this alive. And you feel so free. You’re killing the symbol of your oppressors. They used to be people, but you don’t think about that anymore. You can’t afford to think about who’s behind the mask. You’re probably freeing them, anyway. And you’re freeing yourself. This is what you’re supposed to be, and the City was wrong.  
***  
“So, wait, is binding your chest normally not safe?” you ask Dr. D when he gives you a binder to try on.  
“Yeah, you can really hurt yourself. Like ace bandages and shit especially, really anything if you wear it too long, can fuck you up.”  
“Well, shit, I’ve done that before - not for a long time or anything! I couldn’t! I was gonna bind before I ran away, but I was scared.”  
“It’s fine, kid, we’ve all tried binding in the mirror for a few minutes. It takes more than that to hurt yourself. Go try that on.”  
You do. And it fucking works. You turn and smile at your reflection. You give Dr. D a hug. “Thank you. So much.” He tells you what you need to know about safety. You’re pretty sure you’re crying.  
***  
You aren’t supposed to think this way. You aren’t supposed to be different. You aren’t supposed to be who you are. You’re supposed to be a girl. They’ll kill you if you try to say you aren’t. If you try to say they’re wrong. They told you you had to be the same before they even knew you felt different. So you go to school and stand with the girls when they line you up and pretend it’s okay. And you know there are others around you who aren’t okay. You want to know who they are. You want to tell them. But you can’t, and neither can they.  
***  
Your heart pounds in your chest. Everything feels distant. Ghoul stands next to you and takes your hand.  
“It wasn’t her anymore, Poison. It was too late. The mask was on, she was already a drac. I’m sorry, she was suffering,” he tries to console you, running his thumb over your hand.  
You nod your head. You hardly hear his words. Sounds are fuzzy, your head is swimming. You did that. You killed her You know you’ll get used to it, but you don’t want to.  
***  
The Zones are cold at night. You lie on the sand by the Trans Am, fingers brushing against Ghoul’s. The Girl is pointing at stars, and Kobra and Jet are making up constellations with her. You hardly remember life before this. This serenity, these people who have never once tried to tell you who to be or call you something you aren’t. The stars. One constellation, Kobra says, is the Trans Am, and one’s a spider. And there’s a mask, and there’s the five of you kicking BL/ind ass.


End file.
